The Crooked Shall Be Made Straight

I'm here...be back soon!

This room is ALL MINE!

 

The only two choices we have . . .

Pages borrowed from this book.  

We read these two pages in class today.  They come from a chapter entitled, "What Am I Willing to Notice?"   We read the pages aloud (each student read when they felt moved to read, which gave space for some silence in between sentences and paragraphs).  I wasn't sure this type of reading would work with my hyped-up-it's-March-and-we're-about-to-graduate-already-seniors, but it did.  And it was beautifully poignant and hard for me to keep the tears at bay.

When we were done, I asked, "So what was that like?"  This one boy replied with such sincerity, "It felt like we were all connected!"

I couldn't have said it better myself!

After we read, we completed a circle map with the words, "bearing witness" in the center.  In partners, they defined what they believe "bearing witness" might mean for them.

Then we drew a second circle map with the question, "What I am willing to notice in my world?" in the center. They sat quietly and filled up the space on their pages with all the things/people/events they would commit to notice.  

I wanted to snatch a few from them to scan so I could share them here, but then I felt moved to have them fold them up and put them in their wallets or purses or backpacks as reminders of their commitment to pay more attention. 

You know how when you find that little piece of paper where you wrote something important and put it in your wallet to remember?  I wanted them to have that experience, too!

We are doing all of this in order to prepare ourselves for our end of the school year global community service project.  We are thinking that we will do something to help aid the Invisible Children of Uganda.  Plans are in the works!

"We can turn away or turn toward.  Those are the only two choices we have."

Not enough can be said about RECEIVING compliments

I got three today, and I accepted each of them without one defensive explanation of why the compliment-er might have been wrong about his/her observations!

1.  "You look great!"  (said by a teacher friend in response to my nearly 20 pound weight loss) 

What I heard in my head, "You should see me NAKED! I have SO MUCH more to lose! This morning I EVEN ate a piece of strawberry cake because a student MADE me! And I keep drinking diet coke, even though I DECIDED TO STOP DRINKING THAT POISON."

And then I COULD ACTUALLY feel my hands rising to my stomach as if they were INVOLUNTARILY going to lift my shirt up, so she could SEE that I don't look great under there!   

BUT I DID NOT SAY (or do) THAT! 

PEOPLE, do you have any idea how breakthrough-ish that is for me? 

It is HUGE! 

I've been deflecting compliments (any kind or variety) for as long as I've been living!!!

I said, "Thank you so much!" and grinned ear to ear instead.

2.  "You are by far the best public speaker on the committee.  Your voice and your presence are so commanding.  Your explanation is, in fact, the only one that made me feel like I understand what the project is actually about."  (said after I had spoken to our entire staff at a faculty meeting about how we will revamp the school's program next year.)

What I heard in my head, "My feet are sweating like crazy, and I was so damn nervous, and my god, I have a freakin' headache!"

BUT I DID NOT SAY THAT!

What I said, "Thank you so much!" and grinned ear to ear!

3.  "Hey, Love.  You sure are  B E A U - T I - F U L !"  (said by the 22 year old employee at the coffee house when I went up to place my order this afternoon)

What I heard in my head, "Child, I am old enough to be your mother!"

BUT I DID NOT SAY THAT!

What I said, "Thank you, Sweet Man!  Are you available?!"  and grinned ear to ear!

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(I know he's 22 because he told me months ago when I reprimanded him for chain smoking outside the coffee shop!)

Brain Injury Awareness Month

So I went to church on Sunday for the first time in years, and out on the front lawn was a table with a big sign that read, "March is Brain Injury Awareness Month."  I remember making a mental note of it.  

Then Natasha Richardson died yesterday,  and I burst into tears because it is the worst kind of tragedy to bring this type of serious injury to our attention. 

I prayed for Liam and their  sons, Michael and Daniel, on my way to work this morning. Losing a parent is the most traumatic kind of loss for a child (I know this first hand!), so collectively, may we lift them up to God during this most terrible time.  

And weeping with those who weep is a powerful way to express compassion.  I often remind myself that even Jesus wept. The New International version reads, "Jesus burst into tears."  (I just noticed this translation this morning while creating this link. It gives me great solace to know that about Jesus.)

Please click here to educate yourself about brain injuries.

PROMPTuesday

It's PROMPTuesday #47: The Triumvirate over at San Diego Momma. 

Deb's prompt: Use in a story/poem: a skein of red yarn, a comb and a bottle of water.

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Houston, Texas, 1971

The House on Hopper Road

She sits in the black, fake-leather chair next to the window in the living room. The TV is on "Let's Make a Deal." I grab a bottle of Coke from the bottom drawer in the ice box and sit on the couch at the end closest to her chair. I'm half watching TV and half admiring the crown of white hair atop her head, wondering if mine will look just like it when I get old.  

She looks up over her glasses which are perched on the bridge of her nose; her chin is way down and her eyebrows are arched way up. "Did Paw Paw say you could have a Coke?"  

I clutch the bottle in my hands, pull its neck to my lips, elbows up, head tilted back, mouth puckered around the opening just so, and suck in a big mouthful before I swallow and say, "Yes, Ma'am. He opened it for me." 

She yanks another long piece of red yarn from the plastic bag at her feet. It gets stuck, so she motions for me to get myself down there and pluck the entire skein from the bag. I do, and I hand it to her.  

She takes it from me and asks, "If I put water in a bottle, would you girls drink it like you guzzle down those Cokes each week?"

I giggle, "Ma Maw, you know there's no such thing as bottled water!"

"Well then, Popcorn, go get yourself a comb from under the bathroom sink and wet it real good.  Then comb through that mess atop your head. Those curls have done gone wild!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" I exclaim and scamper off down the hall, right past the bathroom, and out the back door to where the chickens are.  They don't care about my hair, and neither do I!

Beauty Treatments, etc.

The Haircut and coloring of those pesky gray hairs dark roots!

Never mind that they still look dark!  (That woman massaged my neck and shoulders when she washed my hair, and it was worth every penny!)

The effing, ripping off your face in big chunks waxing!  (Hard to see, but here's the evidence!)

 The pedicure!  Ah, the pedicure!  (with complimentary "spong-y" flip flops!)

The manicure!  

(I've never noticed that my fingers don't line up very well.  Hmmm?)

ETC!

Hanging out with former students for a 3 hour breakfast!

(OMG, my boobs are HUGE!)

And this exchange!  Need I say more?!

My chat with a Bird of Paradise

In my spiritual formation class, which meets once a month for 4 hours, we spend a portion of that time in contemplation and reflection.  Usually, we are given some type of instruction for our time alone, but the direction is only a suggestion.  We can spend the time in any type of reflective practice we choose.  

Our instructions this week asked us to consider having a "conversation" with an icon of nature.  We were to go outside to explore the church grounds and find some part of nature that called out to us.  It was during this time that I met up with BOP.  After I introduced myself, we began to chat.  Below you will find a record of our conversation.  

Me:  So, BOP, where have you been?

BOP:  Right here growing in this small garden, soaking in the March sun, providing nectar for the bees.

Me:  Who have you touched lately?

BOP:  I touched the heart of an 83 old woman just this morning after church.  She's the only one who took the time to notice me.  The elderly have a way about them--they are not as rushed, not on to the next event in their minds.  They've learned what beauty is, and they know their hearts need it for renewal.   In fact, she leaned in close to me and said, "My, aren't you lovely!"  I smiled at her and thanked her for noticing.

Me:  Do all the elderly possess this wisdom?

BOP:  No, not all.  Some of them are ruled by their pain, not realizing that noticing beauty is actually the antidote to many forms of suffering--both physical and emotional, and I might as well add, spiritual.  One moment with me and a soothing comfort and calm washes over them.

Me:  Is that why you're called Bird of Paradise?

BOP:  You could say that.  My healing beauty brings a kind of paradise to one's soul.

Me:  Why do so many of us not fully notice you and receive your gifts?

BOP:  You've lost your way.  That's why.  The bees, they could teach you a thing or two. They are busy like you people are.  You know that saying that's popular with all you human beings--"busy as a bee?"  Well, they are indeed busy, but they know when to stop even if for a second, in order to get the sustenance they need to continue to go on their way.  My healing powers are great.  It only takes a moment to soak them into your soul. It happens quickly, but you tell yourselves you have no time to stop, not even for a moment.  That's why you people eat in your cars. You have lost your way. You no longer understand the power of true nourishment. Food, real food, doesn't just address hunger, it heals you.  The bees know this.

Me:  But aren't we off topic now?  How does "beauty of nature" and "bees being busy" have anything to do with me (or anyone else for that matter) eating in our cars?

BOP:  Oh, Sweet Child, always needing everything to make sense and follow a certain train of thought.  You have missed so much!

Me:  But I'm here now.  Can you heal me?

BOP:  Oh, yes!  See my color--the bright yellow and orange like the sun, like flames, like a phoenix rising from the ashes!  It will hold you up in depressed times.  Memorize my posture--upright and certain of my place in this garden.  I never doubt who I am.  Hold your head up, shoulders squared.  See how beautiful I am!  You, My Dear, are beautiful too!  You are planted in the garden of humanity, and you possess a healing power such as mine.  Only connect. Only connect.  Only connect.  And then, Dear One, RISE UP, RISE UP, RISE UP from your own ashes.

(At this point the tears were flowing, the cleansing power of BOP's beauty washing over me like a wave of grace.  And then the bell chimed for us to rejoin the group.)

  

PROMPT TUESDAY (on Wednesday!)

San Diego Momma hosts Prompt Tuesday, and this is my first time to participate. 

I just had to -- the topic called out to me! (I spend a lot of my time feeling quite humbled by things I've done!)

I had just written this "generic" letter, and then I went to SDM and found this PROMPT. 

Write a story about when you last were humbled, felt humbled by the presence of something/someone in your life, or lay prostrate at the feet of the universe and said “I don’t know what the hell I am doing. I will now surrender and let you take over.”

What are the chances that I'd just begun a letter with the words "With great humility I write this"  and then click over to SDM and find her prompt dealing with humility???

What I'd already written (confessed) is definitely an indicator of how often I don't know what the hell I'm doing and my daily NEED to lay prostrate at the feet of the universe (God) and surrender. 

Surrender is becoming my middle name. 

In fact, you can just call me "She Surrenders" from now on!

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Dear Former Friend,

With great humility I write this.  I want you to know that you have done me a GREAT and tremendous service, and that I recognize it and truly, truly, truly appreciate it.  I KNOW IT CANNOT HAVE BEEN EASY to do.

Light bulbs have been going off all morning.  I am currently studying the book of Esther, and the teacher (I'm watching the series on DVD) just said something that pierced my heart to its very core.  I listened to her words over and over again and wrote them down below. 

Here is what she said, and I confess that it is, most regrettably, what I did to you.  I wish "I'm sorry" were big enough words to express the pangs I feel in the depths of my being for what I put you through.

"The human instinct is this:  the more you can get somebody to give you what you emotionally need in the human realm, the more you can get a person to make you feel the security you want to feel -- the more you will crave it from them, and it will get bigger, and the need will get greater and greater until it overtakes and destroys that relationship.  Because no human being can keep up with that.  Listen.  God is the only one who can deal with this in us. ...We will never get the perfect best friend to do this for us.  They will never stay under our control for our needs to be met.  It'll never happen.  They're gonna buck that system, and they should.  And we should too.  It's never gonna work."

Thank you for "bucking that system" and not allowing me to continue.  It was never intentional, but it was THERE, so there inside of me.  And it impacted you in a way that I can only assume was horrible for you.

I will have to deal with the intense shame I feel, and I will deal with it with God's grace ever flowing over me.

I feel like this was so important to confess to you today. 

I'm letting you go, and I will let you go every day until I've truly let go.  I'm so very humbled by the pain I know this caused you.

I will spend the rest of my life asking God to open my eyes to what's going on inside of me and how it impacts those I love, asking God to help me face it head on, asking God to transform my life into the woman He created me to be.  And I will do my part to mature and continue to grow for as long as I'm alive and able.

I wish with all that is within me that I had not done this to you.  Please forgive me.  And please KNOW that I did not intentionally do this to you.  You were my FRIEND,  and I would never, ever have wanted to lose you in order to learn this LESSON (I wish I had not needed to learn it at all, but I did!).  My heart will grieve the loss of your friendship for a long time.  I so enjoyed you!

Love,
She Surrenders

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Just thought I'd show you this calendar page again.  Powerful, yes?!

 

"there's always a reason for life to go on"

My students just completed a unit entitled, "The Value of Life" where they read several articles and watched and analyzed a few films.  

My student teacher did an awesome job with the classes she's been in charge of!  She will be a wonderful asset to the field of education!  

(Oh that every teacher had a G R E A T student teacher to teach her classes for her, so SHE can create blog posts such as this one!)

Here are some photos of our work together.  We created "tree maps" to give organization to the claims each of the articles and films make about the value of life.  

The title of the text is at the top of the chart.  

The claims are on the "branches." 

The evidence used to support the claims is listed underneath each respective claim.

In the metacognitive frame around the "tree map" (one of 8  maps) are the two questions, "How do we know what we know?"  and "So what?"

These are just a sampling!

Here's what they look like on the wall.  (Taken with my phone.  I forgot my camera today!  I feel naked without my camera.  Did I ever tell you guys that?)

The kiddos finished up the unit by writing  "This I Believe" essays about what they believe is the value of life.  

If you've not read any of the essays on the NPR website, click the link and go check them out.  Many of them are read aloud by the authors.  We listened to some of them in class.  

I'll let you know how our essays turned out!  

Just out of my mouth

"Tommy, YOUR TABLE and MY LAST NERVE are about to meet!"  

Response in the room:  LAUGHTER!  

I love my kiddos!

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Oh and my student teacher is NOW OFFICIALLY A TEACHER.  

She just told me that she dreamt about how to effectively and efficiently collect the students' essays!  

And we teachers all know that when you start dreaming crap like that, YOU HAVE ARRIVED IN TEACHERDOM!

Dare I tell her that once it starts, it NEVER stops?!

8 minute passing periods

This is a repost for your entertainment! 

We get 8 minutes between each class for students to move from one class to the next.  I think it's too much time, but I don't complain.  After 19 years of teaching, I'll take the breaks in the day any way I can get them.  For me, it adds up to additional 40 minutes each day. 

I usually use my 8 minutes to head to the restroom.  Sometimes, I go there even if I don't need to because that's where I get to see my teacher friends.  We chat through the stalls, while washing our hands, while putting on lotion, or while spraying on our favorite scents.  (One marvelous new teacher decorated our restroom and added all of these wonderful lotions and spray perfumes for us to use!  We love her.  She made our gathering place pretty!) 

 

At other times, I use my 8 minutes to grab a diet coke from the fridge and pop in a handful of almonds and string cheese if I need some protein and a boost. 

Or, you might find me across the hall in the FOODS classroom filling my coffee cup and adding REAL cream (not half and half)  for a DELICIOUS cup of  heaven to help me get through until lunch. 

On occasion I use my eight minutes to sit at my desk and reply to an email or get a quick glance and subsequent laugh at dooce.com. Today, between third and fourth periods, I was at my desk.  The table closest to my desk filled up with kids within the first four minutes of passing period time.  I didn't even look up, but this is what I heard.

Dude, you don't even know how bad it is.  I mean, I can be eating ice cream, crying, and falling asleep all at once because my period makes me so tired and emotional.  You got no idea, dude.

Uh. Uh. Uh. (The dude tries to speak.)

Yeah, there's weeping and weeping and stomach cramps and it really sucks.  Sometimes it lasts all month.

Your period lasts all month?

No, the weeping lasts all month.  The bleeding from your vagina lasts about a week.

At this, I look up and say, "HELLO.  I  CAN HEAR YOU."

Oh, sorry, Ms. S., but you know how it is.  It's horrible.  You, know.  You know.  Isn't it?

At this point I'm wondering why in the hell I said anything at all.  They were unaware of me.  I should have stayed UNAWARE OF THEM.  But instead I say,

Yeah, I know, and for the record, it only gets worse.

Tomorrow, I'll be getting coffee or spraying myself with a flowery fragrance.  I won't be listening to 18 year old girls instruct 18 year old boys about the horrors of PMS and menstruation.

This is a photo of a purse that belongs to another student.  I had to laugh.  I said, "Nice bag.  Man, you gotta be careful what you put in a bag like that!"  She said, "Yeah, that's why I NEVER put my iPod in it!